


Catch Me If You Can

by satbiym



Series: Catch Me If You Can: From Con to Man [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Catch Me If You Can, Alternative Universe - FBI, Author Victor Nikiforov, Con Artists, Con-Artist Katsuki Yuuri, Criminal Yuuri Katsuki, FBI Agent Victor Nikiforov, Humor, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, References to Howl's Moving Castle, by an OC
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-19
Updated: 2019-10-19
Packaged: 2020-12-24 02:02:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21091550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/satbiym/pseuds/satbiym
Summary: Victor first heard whispers of a con so good that they seemed mythical, when he was still studying in Quantico.The con-artist was like an invisible force of nature, almost magnetic, unable to be detected by itself, whose presence could only be seen by the negative space created by the surrounding chaos.Victor, who had traded in his childish fancies for a badge and a gun, was - despite himself - intrigued. The con and the frustratingly oblique tales of their existence had grabbed a hold of his mind and wouldn’t let go. While Victor theoretically knew that he shouldn’t believe the existence of something on faith alone...Yet…Written for the YOI Isekai Zine





	Catch Me If You Can

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys!
> 
> This is an idea I've been meaning to explore for a long, long time, and I'm so grateful that I was able to do so for the Isekai zine. 
> 
> Inspired by the book/movie Catch Me if You Can, and the TV show White Collar, I hope you will all enjoy my exploration of this what-if. 
> 
> Happy Reading!

_“I have a deal for you.” _

Victor waited out the man, whose brightness was not dimmed even by the shackles on his limbs and the indignity of a bright orange jumpsuit.

His patience was rewarded when, after a beat of silence, the other man burst out, “Fit me with a tracker, give me a bloodhound that tracks my every move, _I don’t care_. I want out and I’ll do anything, even be a criminal informant for the FBI and pledge allegiance to those ugly suits that you all wear. Do we have a deal?”

Victor didn’t even blink, used to the quicksilver pace at which _his _mind worked; having prepared his whole adult life to always remaining one step ahead, had done wonders for Victor’s nerves.

“I think the point of it is to pledge allegiance to the FBI and not the ugly suits,” Victor said wryly, amused despite himself.

The other man’s eyes flashed with a familiar gleam, and he opened his mouth, lips that had once broken hearts all around the world lovingly caressing his words, “Ah, but criminals like me are more familiar with crimes against fashion than with anything to do with fealty to the FBI.”

Ah.

Right.

The man in front of him, despite his blythe charm and pretty eyes, was a criminal, and the cleverest one there was...

But despite their shared history and predetermined cat-and-mouse roles, Victor had never quite managed to break the nasty habit of not seeing man in front of him as anything other than a criminal, but…that was what he was.

“You really think they’re going to let _Eros, _the most infamous con-artist there ever was, the man who got away with stealing billions of dollars - most of which _still_ haven’t been recovered - outside? My my, you really are a dreamer, Eros.” Victor drawled lazily, trying not to show how rattled he was on the inside at the reminder of the situation. Trust him to keep Victor on his toes.

The other man cocked his head and smiling sweetly, like they were meeting for a first date at a dog cafe and not in the tightest white-collar prison facility in the country, said, “If it’s the first and only person to have ever successfully captured Eros making the request, I can’t see why not. And anyway, what’s with this whole _Eros _business; I thought we knew each other better than that, _na, Victor?_”

Victor could feel blood rush to his ears as the prison around him faded from existence, heart beating a familiar rhythm he hadn’t felt in a long, long time, ever since h-_Yuuri_ had been sent to prison.

Ever since _Victor _had put him there.

Victor took a deep breath and decided.

* * *

Victor first heard whispers of a con so good that they seemed mythical, when he was still studying in Quantico.

All the FBI knew about the con was that their elusiveness and lack of proof of ever being present at a crime scene _was_ their calling card. Their name on file was Shadow; a name that gave nothing away about the person behind it, just like the accompanying thick file of vaguely connected suspicions and flimsy evidence.

The con-artist was like an invisible force of nature, almost magnetic, unable to be detected by itself, whose presence could only be seen by the negative space created by the surrounding chaos.

Even FBI trainees, who were more than trained out of their childlike enchantment with the romanticism that accompanied white-collar criminals, would pass around tales of the con-artist that no one could _prove_ existed, but everyone knew persisted.

Victor, who had traded in his childish fancies for a badge and a gun, was - despite himself - intrigued. The con and the frustratingly oblique tales of their existence had grabbed a hold of his mind and wouldn’t let go. While Victor theoretically knew that he shouldn’t believe the existence of something on faith alone...

_Yet…_

* * *

Victor forced his thoughts away, half sure that the towering man in front of him might be able to read them, as he sat in an uncomfortable plastic chair at the head of the FBI’s White-Collar Unit in New York City.

Yakov Feltsman (fifty years old, divorced, decorated agent with an 80% arrest rate) stared at him, eagle-eyed and obviously displeased, even before Victor had uttered a single word. This was obviously going to go swimmingly, Victor thought wryly.

“You.” Victor jumped as the silent impasse was shattered by a growl from the other man and resisted the urge to stand up and salute.

“Yes, sir,” Victor said, striving to keep his tone respectful and dignified.

Mr Feltsman reached into his blazer and pulled out a book, sliding it towards Victor with a precise slowness that only served to make the back of Victor’s neck itch with foreboding.

He looked at the book, the title _Catch Me If You Can: The Journey from Con to Man _stared back at him under the words “The International Bestseller that Intrigued The World.”

“You wrote this,” Yakov stated, as if the gold-embossed words on the book shouting Victor’s authorship weren’t proof enough.

Victor inclined his head, curious and bewildered as to why an FBI agent fresh out of Quantico and his thesis-turned-published-book merited the attention and personal audience with someone like _Yakov Feltsman_.

Yakov nodded, as if he had gotten the answer he had needed from Victor, and roughly pulled in a - much better, Victor noted sourly - chair to sit. He then spoke, voice still gruff but somehow kinder than before, “It’s good.”

Somehow hearing words, a pale version of the ones he had heard screamed at him from fans and journalists alike, said so matter-of-factly by Yakov Feltsman, was enough to startle Victor into blurting out, “Do I need to call my lawyer, Mr Feltsman?”

Yakov quirked an eyebrow and almost lazily drawled, much like a predator playing with his food, “Now, what gives you that impression, Mr Nikiforov?”

“I have a feeling that praising my book wasn’t the only reason your office ordered me to come the second I graduated, Mr Feltsman. I may not know or even understand what game you’re playing here, but I do know my rights and now, I will ask you again: Do I need to call my lawyer for this chat?” Victor said, steely in tone and polite in expression.

Yakov leaned forward, the posture making his blazer fall open, exposing the strapped gun holster, and lightly said, “Not if you are feeling talkative today, Mr Nikiforov. I just want to know one thing from you - give me the answer and no more phone calls will be necessary.”

At Victor’s silence, Yakov slowly continued, every syllable enunciated and precise, “Tell me, _where is Eros?_”

_“Huh?!” _Victor burst, unable to maintain his silence.

Pursing his lips, Yakov repeated, “I asked, Where is-”

“No! I mean, I heard you the first time, it’s just - I’m having a hard time believing that you said that. I mean, _Eros? _the main character in my book, Eros? He’s fictional! I understand overly invested fans, but using FBI resources to hound me about an imaginary character is hard to wrap my head around,” Victor said, unfiltered and honest in his words, a fact that - judging by the throbbing vein in Yakov Feltsman’s forehead - was only burying him deeper and deeper in the grave of his would-be FBI career.

Fare thee well, dreams of being the youngest ever FBI head, a part of Victor’s mind waved, while the rest of it was still reeling with shock.

Yakov banged the top of the table with his hands, bringing Victor’s mental lament and flurry of words to a stop.

“Enough,” Yakov growled, intimidation and displeasure rolling off him.

“Do you take me for a fool, boy! This book is about a con-man that no one can catch, whose modus operandi is that he steals only from the rich. He’s been on the FBI watch list for years, but no one even knows his real name. There are too many details in this book for me to believe that it wasn’t written about the very same con-artist _we_ have been looking for! The signature, the cons, the techniques are the same! But while we couldn’t even determine his gender, you, a rookie fresh out of school, managed to figure it out. Now...”

Victor’s eyes widened as Yakov got up and loomed over him, “Either you are the best criminal-profiling prodigy I have ever seen,” Victor felt his hair rise, as Yakov, continued in a darker tone that promised death and destruction, “_or,_ you are an accomplice to the con-artist we’ve been looking for. What sounds more likely to you, Mr Nikiforov?”

Victor, outgunned, overpowered and clearly out of his league, smiled.

Yakov stilled.

“_I_ think it’s more likely that I’m the best criminal-profiler you’ve ever met or are ever going to meet, Mr Feltsman,” Victor said serenely, not a hair out of place.

“And if you must know, Eros isn’t based on anyone; he is a fictional character. I’m glad he was able to inspire you, but I’m afraid I cannot help you any further. I would appreciate it if you didn’t waste any more of my time and instead worked on hiring more competent agents who can bring you results.”

Victor, still smiling, got up and started walking towards the door, heart beating a mile a minute.

A hand fell on his shoulder, stopping him, “Well then, _Prodigy_, if you’re so good, help us find him. You’re out of school now, aren’t you? Come work here. Help us catch this con.”

Victor, without turning his head, shook the hand off and kept walking, nonchalantly saying, “No, thanks. I find that something in the air and the chairs here don’t quite agree with me. I’m going to have to pass.”

“The con we’re trying to catch, you might have heard of him,” Yakov threw out, “he’s called _Shadow_.”

Victor’s hand, still reaching towards the doorknob, paused.

* * *

_So, here’s the plan…_

Victor resisted the urge to glance towards the entrance, the rustle of dry-clean-only fabric and hushed murmuring of people reaching his ears from his vantage point in the aisle seat.

Victor pretended to carefully peruse the pamphlet he had received, giving behind-the-scenes information for the first ever showing of _Howl’s Moving Castle: The Musical_. To an outsider, Victor would have looked like any other person interested in watching actors pretend to fly as they were tied up by strings.

_We’ve received an anonymous tip that a person of interest will be at this location in two days time. _

A brown-eyed child stared at him, wide-eyed, from her seat, face half-hidden by it.

Victor gave a small smile and waved at her.

She ducked her head as hushed giggles filled the air.

_We need to be prepared for the worst, and be ready to apprehend and bring in for questioning anyone who stands out as suspicious. _

Victor shook his head and urged himself to relax.

It wouldn’t do for him to freeze, and just as they had gotten a break in their case.

_I cannot emphasize how important this tip is; this might be our one chance to bring him in. _

Victor loosed his fingers, which were crumpling the pamphlet. This was his chance. He just had to keep control of the situation.

Victor was sure of it - he just needed one look and he would _know _if it was them_._

_Whom?_

_The person’s suspected to be the con-artist known only as Shadow._

One way or another, he had a feeling something was going to be decided tonight.

The lights dimmed as the familiar opening music filled the air, and Victor prepared himself for the upcoming battle that was sure to test his resolve…and also to catch Shadow.

The woman playing Sophie was an intriguing lead, even if Victor couldn’t buy the inherent assumption that anyone who looked like _that _would’ve ever, in any universe, been considered unattractive. She looked like someone Mila would quite willingly embarrass herself in front of.

But intriguing lead or not, Victor found it hard to maintain the facade of being enchanted with the musical, too strung up with thoughts of Shadow making an appearance and Victor missing it.

_They’ll be discreet; I doubt they’d want any attention on them._

Victor let his gaze wander, only to see a figure look around surreptitiously before disappearing into the washroom.

_Got you._

Victor got up stealthily and walked to the washroom, pushing open the door with a hand resting on his hidden gun.

The man was bent over the sink, surrounded by five burly men. He looked up at Victor’s entrance, with a feral look in his eyes, a line of white powder where the man’s head had been resting.

On seeing the direction of Victor’s gaze, the men all straightened up and reached inside their jackets.

Ah.

This wasn’t going to end well.

The voices of the cast filtered through the opening of the door as Victor quickly thought his options through.

_“Hey, you, little mouse. Are you looking for something?”_

Victor smiled and said, “Ah, sorry there, fellas, I might have gotten the wrong door there. I will be going now - got a date waiting and all.”

_“She is cute, especially when she gets angry.”_

His back facing away from the men who were now starting to move closer, Victor quickly exited the washroom; _he didn’t have time for this, not right now, not when Shadow was right ther-_

Victor’s back hit something solid. The men were still closing in, a familiar silhouette in their pockets.

“There you are. I was looking for you!” a voice spoke from behind him.

Victor turned his head and-

_Oh._

Brown eyes stared back at him, assessing, deliberating and _bright_.

Victor felt like a winged, whisky thing of smoke and air was trapped in his chest, fluttering to get out.

The sound of the incoming footsteps was growing closer; Victor turned back towards the men and opened his mouth, only to be stopped as the man behind him put his arms around Victor, and with a smile evident in his voice, said good-naturedly, “Sorry about that, guys, this one here is really bad with directions and tends to go walking off despite that. How about we forget this _mistake_ and call it a day, _na?_”

The men in front of them narrowed their eyes. The synchronicity would have been amusing if Victor had been in _any other situation_.

The man, still draped over Victor, laughed lowly, darker and somehow more amused than before, and said, “Ah, well, if we’re gonna play it the hard way then, I am afraid, we...” Victor whelped as the arms around him tightened and he was suddenly lifted off his feet, “...have someplace to be. Maybe next time!” the man threw out at the gaping men below, Victor still in his arms, as they…they…

_“There you go. Don't be afraid.”_

_Flew._

The crowd, previously focused on the show, gasped, pointing and screaming as they leapt over them in one long arc, the actors on stage stopping mid-dialogue.

Victor, held in mid-air by a man he had never met before, felt like he had managed to effectively lose control of The Situation.

The wind rushed through his hair as the other man twisted, somehow making them glide comfortably to the next end of the theatre.

Knees shaking, Victor slid down to the floor, uncaring, as the audience nearby pointed their smartphones towards them.

“Sorry about the wind there, but it looked like you were in a tough spot, so I figured, better to suffer messy hair than spilled guts; ruins the decor of the place,” a cheerful voice above him said.

Victor’s hands, which had been hugging the floor in gratitude, flew to his - yes, messy - hair, somehow managing to feel even worse off than before.

He looked up, only to see bright brown eyes with a smile lurking in the corners, staring back at him.

For a second they just looked at each other.

“Howl!” a voice called out, rage evident in their tone.

The man’s eyes widened and, for the first time all evening, dread began to creep in as he turned towards a woman who looked ready for war.

The man uttered a low curse, but turned immediately to smile brightly at her.

“Yes, Minako?”

The woman reached in and, pulling the man’s ear, hissed, “Don’t _Minako_ me, young man, you were supposed to go _on stage two minutes ago! _Because you weren’t there, I had to send Phichit in! And now I find that instead, you were using _stage equipment _to distract the audience!”

Victor’s eyes widened as he took in the other man’s complete attire, or rather, _costume._

He was wearing the same clothes that the main lead of the musical was wearing in the pamphlet.

“So, uh, are you more upset about the ‘not going on stage part’, or the ‘unsanctioned use of stage equipment’ part?” the man said, as if mentally considering his options.

Victor resisted the urge to flinch out of second-hand empathy for the pain that was sure to come the man’s way, and sure enough, the man squealed softly as the woman further twisted his ear in retaliation.

“Careful, careful, the strings will break!” the man pleaded, laughingly.

_Strings? _Victor looked closer at the man’s costume. _Oh_.

Now, it all made sense. They hadn’t flown, of course not, that was impossible. They had been transported on theatre strings, much like the ones that were supposed to be used for the scene Victor had so derided the audience for believing.

Victor resisted the urge to scream. Fortunately, Victor’s phone buzzed, distracting him.

Without looking at the caller ID, Victor accepted the call, only to be met with a chillingly quiet voice, “Nikiforov. Do you want to explain to me why pictures and videos of the agent I sent to catch Shadow are currently _trending_ on Twitter with the hashtag, _Conveniently Cursed Sophie_?” Yakov’s voice seemed to gain in lethality and rage with every successive word, the moment crescendoing with the call being cut.

Victor closed his eyes.

Never mind, the urge to scream was now very much back.

“You alright?” a gentle voice asked.

Victor opened his eyes to see the man, free from Minako, look back with concern.

_Ah. Right. _

_The case. Shadow._

Victor had just ruined the department’s one and only chance of figuring out the identity of the con-artist; Shadow would never reveal himself _now_.

Victor felt a soppy thickness clog his throat. He couldn’t-

Victor smiled and, clearing his throat, nodded, “Yeah, I’m fine. Thank you for the save back there.”

Only, the man didn’t seem to be listening to Victor’s words, sharp eyes focused instead on staring through his soul. It should have been off-putting, to have someone he didn’t even know look at him like they knew all his secrets, but…being the object of that intensity was somehow…thrilling and even flattering.

“What’s your name, Stranger?” the man said, a strange look in his eyes.

Victor started, he hadn’t even realized-

He laughed and said, “Victor Nikiforov. Sorry, I must have forgotten my manners in all this mess.”

The man smiled and shook his head, drawling, “It’s alright. What’s a little impropriety between friends?”

Victor felt his face heat and oh, _this was so not the right time for this to be happening._

Victor’s phone buzzed again; he picked it up to see an awaiting message.

_You are free to leave the scene, Agent. The mission is over._

Victor resisted the urge to laugh at that, _And so is my career, thanks_. _No leads, no suspect, not even a name to put on the damn file. Yeah, it’s over alright._

“Howl!” Minako called loudly. “Come on, let’s get out of here; we’re done for today.”

Victor looked up, but the other man was staring at Victor consideringly. At Victor’s questioning look, the man just smiled and waving carelessly, turned away.

“It was absolutely lovely to meet you, Victor; let’s do this again sometime,” he said.

Most people whenever they said the ritual words of farewells, sounded like they were ticking off a social requirement, but this man, he sounded like he actually meant it.

And…Victor wanted those words to _be _true.

Breath catching at the realisation, he moved forward just as the other man was getting into a car with Minako and the actress who had played Sophie.

“How will we meet again? I don’t even know your name!” Victor called out.

The man paused, hand resting lightly on the black frame of the car door. He turned back slightly, enough for Victor to catch the hint of anticipation and mischievousness in his smile as he spoke, the brisk New York evening wind carrying the words to Victor as the man got into the car.

“Call me Eros; I have a feeling that this isn’t going to be our last meeting, _na, Victor_?”

The car pulled away swiftly, until Victor could no longer see it… or - more specifically - be able to track it. Carrying an actress, a stage manager, and…

Victor pulled out his phone and spoke swiftly, “I have a lead on the suspect known formerly as Shadow. Get me a sketch artist and put out a bulletin for every black sedan leaving this area.”

_“What do you mean ‘formerly known’? Did you get his real name?”_

Victor smiled, “No. But I have a feeling we’re going to be meeting again really soon.”

_TBC..._

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you guys enjoyed that! If yes, I'd love to hear your thoughts below in the comments! I treasure each and every comment I get and I'd love to know your opinions on what you think is gonna happen next
> 
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> 
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